The Story of Two Young Soldiers
by PFDC
Summary: Alfred is a soldier in the contenintal army. A battle turns duo massacre and may be the only left alive. He finds Arthur, a British soldier, wounded and near death. The stories of these two men are wound together, proving that war may divide, but love sews close the tears that war ripped.
1. Chapter 1 of 5

Snow slowly drifted through the trees. The crys of of battle had finally stopped as Alfred wound his grey horse through the trees. The silence of the forest was haunting, and he stood in stark contrast with his blood-stained navy jacket, and most of the blood wasn't his. He was starting to think that it was hopeless-that he was the only survivor. For hours he had been wandering through the frozen forest, calling out for someone, anyone who was still alive,

"Is anyone there?! Please! Answer me!" he screamed. There was no answer. His crystal blue eyes filled with tears and he dipped his head in sorrow.

"H-hello? A-anyone h-here? P-please h-help m-me," a voice stuttered from behind Alfred. He shot his head up and spun his horse around. As quickly as he could, he made his way towards the voice. At first, he only saw a chesnut horse standing with it's head lowered. At a closer look, however, Alfred saw a bloody hand clinging to the reins. Alfred jumped off of his steed and sprinted over to the horse. When the British soldier saw Alfred's Rebel uniform, he tried to scramble behind the tree he was leaning against, but he could barely move, much less escape. Alfred squatted down in front of the Englishman and looked him over. His peridot eyes glared at him under shaggy, straw colored hair. He looked shorter than the Rebel, but not by much. His forehead had a nasty gash in it, and was bleeding badly. The red jacket that defined him as a Loyalist was shredded, and was soaked with blood.

"I want to help you. Please don't run. I don't want to hurt you,' Alfred reached out to touch the soldier. He tried to back away but sagged against the tree in defeat. Alfred brushed the shaggy blond bangs from the Brit's forehead so he could see the wound. It was deep but not fatal. Alfred sighed in relief but his relief was cut short when he realized that the soldier was running a dangerous fever," what is your name?" he asked. The Loyalist sat in silence for a moment,

"A-arthur Kirkland," he finally chocked out," what is y-yours?"

"Alfred Jones," he tugged on Arthur's jacket but stopped when he yelped in pain. Alfred looked to see the sun starting to set. He looked back down to see Arthur shaking violently. The colonist whipped off his jacket, wrapped it around Arthur's shoulders, and gingerly picked him up off of the ground. Surprisingly, the Brit didn't protest, but instead curled up in his arms. A slight blush formed on Alfred face when he realized how beautiful Arthur was. He had met cute, handsome, and even sexy men before, but Arthur was the first truly beautiful person he had ever met. He was turning to leave when Arthur whispered something,

"Checkmate," he murmured. Alfred stared at Arthur, confused. When he felt hot breath on his back, he realized who Checkmate was. He grabbed the reins of the chesnut horse who had come when Arthur called him and tied to his horse. As carefully as he could, he mounted the grey steed while still holding Arthur. The Loyalist's eyes had become dull and listless, and his face was white. Alfred knew that he was in dire straits,

"Please, just, hang on Arthur," he whispered. As quickly as possible, Alfred wound his and Arthur's horse through the woods until they reached the road that led to his town. Holding on to Arthur with one hand and his reins with the other, Alfred galloped towards home, away from hell, through the still-falling snow, and under the setting sun, illuminating the pair, Rebel and Loyalist, and ending the chapter of war in these young men's stories, who never should have had to write it to begin with.


	2. Chapter 2 of 5

Arthur's eyes fluttered open. The sun was streaming through an open window. He tried to sit up but stopped when his chest screamed in pain harmoniously with his head. He groaned and pressed his hand to his forehead, only to find a bandage wrapped around it,  
"Bloody hell?" he lifted the thick quilt off of his chest to see bandage wrapped tightly around his body, from his neck to his waist. He looked around the small room and realized that had no idea where he was. He just sat there for a moment, trying to remember why he was in this strange place. A door sat in the corner of the room. Curious, he carefully swung his legs over, placed them on the smooth wooden floor, and tried to stand. At first he wobbled a little, but was soon able to stagger over to it and creak it open. A fire crackled in the fireplace and it warmed the room pleasantly. The smell of pines and wood smoke filled his nostrils and made him feel like he was home, in his cottage in the English countryside. Before he could walk into the room, however, a man around his age entered the room, carrying a white blouse and black trousers that Arthur assumed had just been hanging out to dry. The young man's dark blonde hair stuck up in one place, and he was tall and lanky. He was folding the outfit when Arthur shifted his weight on a loose floorboard. The man whipped around, and his crystal blue eyes lit up when he saw the Loyalist standing there. He bounded over to him, an impossible smile on his face,  
"Arthur! You're awake! How are you feeling? You should sit down," Arthur tried to back away from the unfamiliar colonist, but he caught the gaze of those beautiful blue eyes, and his memories of that freezing night rushed back,  
"Alfred," he whispered. A sharp pain shot through his head, he slid against the doorframe to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, and resting his forehead on his knees. Alfred knelt down in front of him and touched his shoulder with a concerned look in his eyes. They stayed like that for sometime,  
" How long was I asleep?" Arthur asked,  
" A couple days," the Rebel stared at the floor, " it was terrifying. You were so close to death that night. I wasn't sure you would ever wake up," he looked back up at the Loyalist, " but you did, and for that I am grateful," he placed the clothes in front of Arthur, " Put these on and meet me through the door by the fireplace, by the stables," he stood and turned to leave,  
" Are we going somewhere?"  
" There have been reports of British scouts near town. It's best for us to leave, me being a 'Rebel', and you being injured," Alfred turned again and left through the indicated door by the fireplace. As soon as he left, Arthur's face flushed a deep red. He couldn't stop thinking about how strikingly beautiful the Rebel was, with his wire spectacles that rested in front of his perfect, crystal blue eyes that were sometimes covered by his soft, dark blonde bangs. The smitten Englishman threw the close over his old, torn-up trousers he had on, and quickly staggered outside. The little snow that hadn't melted danced in the early sunlight, as if it were rejoicing the coming of spring. The stables were framed with stunning rolling hills and a cloudless sky. Standing next to the stables, was Alfred, wearing his still bloodstained navy jacket, with Checkmate and the grey stallion that he was riding the night they met. When Arthur reached the trio, he was given a matching jacket, minus the blood,  
" Why did you give me a Rebels jacket?" he asked with a little bite in his voice.  
" We're passing through some towns that have been ravaged by Red Co- I mean, British soldiers. If they know that you're British, we won't live past sundown," Arthur slid his arms into the sleeves and clasped the jacket closed. The two mounted their horses and left the cottage that reminded him of home forever.  
The sun was touching the horizon when they stopped for the night. They hadn't spoken the entire ride, solemnly riding through destroyed towns on blood-splattered roads, until they reached the inn that they were tying their horses up in front of. It startled Arthur to hear Alfred's voice,  
" Continental soldiers stay here free. My platoon often stayed here," he said as they entered the inn. Alfred nodded his head at the innkeeper and started up the rickety stairs. Arthur closed the door and was starting up the stairs when the innkeeper spoke,  
" 'Ey you! I 'aven't seen ya' here 'fore!" Alfred stopped halfway up the stairs and glared at the innkeeper but spoke to Arthur,  
" Arthur, don't talk to him. Come on,"  
" Alfred! I 'aven't said nothin' improper!" the innkeeper stepped towards the confused Brit, " I just wanted ta introduce meself ta this 'andsome young soldier," he grinned and started to reach for Arthur. In seconds, Alfred had reached the two, grabbed Arthur's hand, pulled him behind his back, and had a knife poised at the innkeepers throat. Snapping the knife back into its sheath, the Rebel left without a word, pulling a shocked Loyalist up the stairs behind him,  
" Ya always 'ave been protective of those ya care for!" the innkeeper shouted up the stairs after them. Alfred answered with a slam of the door.


	3. Chapter 3 of 5

"He wasn't doing anything!" Arthur wasn't happy with Alfred's rude manners, "In England that would have-"  
"We're not in England, Arthur. He is a dangerous man to handsome, young soldiers," the colonist leaned against a wall and folded his arms across his chest, "but if it means that much to you, next time, I'll just let you get molested," he looked up and stared straight into Arthur's eyes, reading his reactions, pushed off of the wall, and approached the Brit, backing him into a corner, "Although, I don't know if could ever let anyone harm you in any way," he continued to stare into those beautiful green eyes that were filled with confusion and a twinkle of fear. He sighed slightly and brushed away the straw colored bangs from the bandage. Very carefully, Alfred unwrapped the bandage and ran his finger across the light scar that was once a nasty bayonet wound. Finally, he couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and softly kissed Arthur's forehead. From inside of his jacket pocket, he pulled a bloodstained, torn journal and pressed it into the Loyalist's chest, "I found this in your jacket. You should be an author. You're writing a fantastic story," he turned and walked back over to where he was standing and plopped down on the floor near the bed," we have a long day of riding ahead. Go to bed," he reached over and snagged the lantern from it's low hook and blew it out. Arthur stood there for a moment, hugging his precious story to his chest. He knew that Alfred had left the bed for him because of his still-healing chest wounds. Moonlight flooded through the open window and illuminated the colonist, who seemed to have already fallen asleep. Quietly, the Loyalist crept over to the Rebel and sat next to him, leaning his head on his shoulder,  
"Thank you," he whispered, "for everything". He closed his eyes was soon sleeping peacefully. Alfred smiled and rested his head on Arthur's, wrapping his arm around his waist and pulling him closer,  
"Goodnight," he murmured, drifting into his first restful sleep since the war started.

" Wake up sleepy head," Alfred gently shook him until he was blinked and yawning groggily. He touched his chest and felt no pain. He stood and took a few steps. Still no pain,  
" My wounds have healed!" he spun around and smiled at the other. Alfred stood up, stretched, walked over to the estatic blonde, and held out his hand,  
" They've just stopped hurting. You still need to be careful. Come on, I want to leave before the innkeeper wakes up," Arthur took his hand and they both left the room and walked down the stairs. The innkeeper was awake, but used his better judgment and said nothing. The sun was resting on the horizon and warmed the pair's backs as they mounted their horses and picked up where they left off on their journey. At first, they only lightly chatted about nothing important. Arthur thought Alfred was sweet and calm. He quickly regretted jumping to conclusions. During their stop at a creek to water their horses and eat, the crazy colonist started chasing ducks like a dog, in and out of the trees and creek, but never caught one. The sun beat down and the two, for once, were boiling hot. They tucked their jackets into their saddlebags and followed along the creek. The rest of the ride, Alfred pranced his horse around Arthur's, and goofed off. He started with dumb jokes that made the Englishman groan. After he exhausted his seemingly endless supply of jokes, he made his grey steed elegantly march, and recited Shakespeare monologues,  
" O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Take it away, Shakespeare!" he gestured to his horse, who was evidently named Shakespeare. The horse snorted and dipped his head, used to the crazy colonist's antics. Arthur chuckled, but his horse, Checkmate, was getting irritated. He finally snapped when Shakespeare bounced through water on the sore of a small lake. Alfred was singing Yankee Doodle in a very silly manner, "Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a Shakespeare. Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni," he pulled a duck feather from his small trouser pocket and stuck it behind his ear, "Yankee Doodle keep it up, Yankee Doodle dandy. Mind the rythym and the step," Checkmate had had it. He stretched his neck out and clamped his teeth down on Shakespeare's rump. The grey stallion reared and Alfred crashed into the water,  
"Alfred!" Arthur launched off of the chesnut horse and sprinted over to where the colonist lay. The sun-warmed water touched his ankles when he reached him, " Alfred are okay?! I'm so sorry! I don't know why he did that!" Alfred sat up and smiled at the worried Brit. He grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, until their foreheads were almost touching. He took the feather, that had somehow stayed behind his ear,  
" And with the boys be handy," Alfred slid the feather behind Arthur's ear and stroked his cheek. The Loyalist blushed and whispered hoarsely,  
" That's not how the song goes," the Rebel chuckled,  
" I know," he rested his hand on the Brit's chest, feeling his racing heartbeat, closed this eyes, leaned forward, and kissed Arthur. The heartbeat he could feel under his hand speed up to an impossibly fast rate. He broke away and whispered to the Loyalist,  
" If you don't calm down, your heart's gonna give out. It's just a kiss," Arthur blushed and looked away,  
" To you, it's just a kiss,"  
" A kiss is a kiss, Artie," Alfred leaned forward and just touched his lips to the Brit's, "see?" The green-eyed man looked down into the water for a few minutes,  
" But what will the Continental army do if they figure out that your with me? he finally asked. The Rebel just laughed,  
" What will they do to me? My commander will probably scold me for making my lover freeze in a lake for being too incompetent to stay on my horse,"  
" But I'm a Loyalist!"  
" So am I. A Loyalist to the new nation,"  
" You know what I mean, Alfred," Alfred stood and picked up Arthur like a small child,  
" Then you'll be my Loyalist."


	4. Chapter 4 of 5

"Artie! Artie!" Alfred thundered towards the small farmhouse Arthur and he had been living in for the past two week. Shakespeare skidded to a halt and the excited soldier flew off. He sprinted to where his lover was sitting, working in his journal, and picked him up, squeezing him in a warm embrace,"The war's over Artie! We're not just colonists anymore" he wrapped any American flag around the Brit, "we're Americans," his blue eyes twinkled in a way that made Arthur's heart flutter, but he couldn't feel the joy that was in those eyes,  
"That's, uh, great Alfie! Really! I'm glad that no one else needs to die to end the war," he look away from the sapphire eyes that were now filled with confusion,  
"Hey are you okay?" Alfred cupped Arthur's chin and turned his face so he could look into the peridot eyes that never failed to make is heart melt, "You can tell me anything. Don't forget that,"  
"It's just, I've-I've never lived in another country before. It's gonna be hard to see a new flag flying," a tear slipped out of his eyes, and Alfred cursed himself for not seeing how homesick his lover had become. He kissed away the tear and tightened his grip on the Loyalist, who, in turn, buried his head in the Rebel's chest. After standing there for a minute or two, an idea struck the blue-eyed American, but he had to hurry,  
"I... Forgot something! I'll be right back," he kissed Arthur's forehead, " I love you, so much," he spun on his heel, sprinted over to his grey stallion, launched on to is back, and galloped back towards town.  
Shakespeare pinned his ears and bopped his head nervously, feeling the malicious atmosphere surrounding the small town they were now in sight of. Thankfully, the clock tower hadn't tolled noon yet. A pile of of British flags, uniforms, and even corpses lay in the town's central. Men milled around with flaming torches, waiting for he clock to toll. Alfred knew that he had to hurry. Setting his sights on a smaller flag lying on top, he charged forward, crashed through a couple people, but made it to the pile safely. At first, the crowd was confused, but as soon as he snagged the flag, he was an enemy. As hard as he tried to protect his rider, Shakespeare had him torn from the saddle. Screaming and firing kicks at the men pinning Alfred down and beating, the war horse was trying to save his master, but stood no chance against the flames threatening his flying mane and tail,  
"Shakespeare!" Alfred screamed, "HELP!" The horse hated that command, because it meant leaving his best friend to fight for himself. Neighing sorrowfully, he spun around on his back legs and shot out of town and towards home, where he knew he could find help, "good boy" Alfred coughed and saw blood splatter on the ground, "shit" he looked up through the blood clouding his vision, and saw the barrel of a pistol pointed at his chest,  
"Burn in hell, British scum," the gun-bearer sneered. Alfred closed his eyes and thought of Arthur, and how he would tear apart the very heart he had healed. A gun shot rang out, echoing through the buildings. He opened his eyes. He knew that shot all too well, and it wasn't from a pistol,  
"Step away from my soldier, or I'll blow a hole through your head," the crowd cleared away and Captain Williams marched his black mare towards the bruised and beaten American, his custom-made musket still pointed to the sky, "how many times am I going to have to save your sorry ass before you gain a brain?"  
"Hey chief. Thanks again. Could you help me up? I gotta get home," Alfred coughed up more blood. Williams sighed and jumped off of his horse,  
"Where's your pathetic excuse for a war horse?" he saw the Union Jack clutched in Alfred's hand, "was that flag really worth it?"  
" I don't know about a 'pathetic excuses for a war horse', but Shakespeare went to get help, and yes, it was worth it," instead of helping him up, the captain dragged hm over to where his horse was waiting, shoved him in front of the saddle, and mounted behind him,  
"which way's your house?" Alfred pointed to the trail he had taken into town. Williams cantered his black warhorse to the trail,  
" Don't tell my lover about the flag 'kay? He'll be furious," the American asked quietly. The soldier behind him said nothing.  
The two practically crashed into Arthur half way down the trail. He was riding Shakespeare, and was flying towards town. When he saw Alfred's beaten and bleeding form, he screeched to a halt and stared at his lover, tears rolling down his face,  
"Alfred," he squeaked. Captain Williams didn't stop his horse,  
"Go home and get a bed ready, Alfred's hurt badly," the Brit nodded stiffly and thundered home, "how did you get such a beautiful Englishman to love you?"  
Alfred smiled, "I never gave up on his broken heart. He lost everything because of hat damned war, and I helped him gain back as much as possible,"  
"You're such a romantic" Alfred chucked, which caused him to start coughing again, "Dammit Alfred! Use some sense next time you want to make enemies!"  
Once the two reached the farmhouse, Captain Williams carried Alfred into the house and lay him on the bad he shared with Arthur,  
"Thank you..."  
"Williams," he turned to the Brit, "John Williams. I was Alfreds commander while he was still in the army," he glanced down at Alfred, "where's your well? I'll go get some water,"  
Arthur pointed to a door lead outside, and John left through it,  
"Alfred, w-what happened?" him sat on the bed next to his lover and rested his on his chest, "does this hurt you?'  
"No. It's mostly my face and knee. Uh... Shakespeare slipped in some mud and I flew into a tree," Alfred wrapped his arms around the Brit,  
"Ah," The Loyalist replied, and the Rebel could tell that his lie was seen through. He sighed and stroked his lovers straw-colored hair. John slammed the door, carrying a sloshing bucket of water and a clean rag. Arthur sat up so Alfred could properly be taken care of, and his lover saw tears streaming down his face that he hadn't realized were falling while they had been lying there. Jon saw them too,  
"what the Hell are you crying for boy?!" he snarled, "Alfred isn't dead! Pull yourself together! Some soldier you must have been!"  
"DON'T EVER SPEAK TO MY LOVER THAT WAY!" the injured American shot forward, bu cringed in pain when he finished shouting, blood trickling from his mouth,  
"Arthur, hold him down. He's probably broken a couple ribs," Arthur pulled his still angry lover back to lean on his shoulder. John soaked the rag with water and cleaned off his soldiers face. He then gave Alfred some water to rinse out his mouth and inspected his chest and knee. By the time all of the injuries were clean, the water was dyed pink, "Could you get some bandage for me?" he asked. Arthur dashed out of the room. As soon as he was out of ear-shot, Alfred turned to his commander,  
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he mumbled,  
"I deserved it. He had the right to be overwhelmed by what happened, by the way," Captain Williams pulled the British flag from his jacket, "what do you plan to do with this?"  
"I have a plan, but I need your help, and Artie can't know."


	5. Chapter 5 of 5

The door creaked much louder than expected, but it didn't matter, because Alfred was awake, playing with the golden ring set with a peridot that Arthur had given him for Valentine's day. He looked up when he saw his lover enter the room,  
"Hey Artie, you look beautiful today,"  
"Look in the mirror chap," Arthur blushed and sat beside him on the bed, "how's your chest feeling?"  
"Much better. In a couple days, I should be back to falling off of Shakespeare," Alfred turned and pressed his lips against the slightly surprised Brit's, who quickly returned the kiss. The American leaned against his lover until he had him pinned against the backboard. He ran his hands up Arthur's waist, untucking his blouse from his trousers, and press his body closer,  
"Good morning! Alfred, you seem to feeling well," John slammed the door and strode over to the bed,  
"It's 2:00 in the afternoon," Alfred growled. The burly soldier grabbed the blue-eyed American's shoulder and yanked him back,  
"you know, making love would stress your ribs that haven't healed yet," he rummaged around in one of the saddle bags slung over his shoulder and pulled out a cloth bag, "I hope i got the right you're chicken scratch is impossible to read," he tossed it to the American,  
"That was quick!" he glanced at Arthur, "Hey Artie, could you take Shakespeare for a ride? He's probably lonely,"  
"Sure Alfie," Arthur stood and pecked his lover on the lips, then left the room. 'Alfred's been acting strange' he thought as he strode to the barn. Since the accident, Alfred had barely even spoken to him, except for today. The Brit blushed, but felt a flash of anger just thinking of John. 'Why is Alfred spending so much time with him? Why is he ignoring me?' Arthur smacked his forehead with his hand as he entered the barn, "stupid git. Mum told you never to be jealous," he wrapped his arms around Checkmate's neck, "I love him more than anything," he looked across the aisle at Shakespeare, "he loves me too, doesn't he?" the grey stallion bopped his head as if he were nodding, "oh I'm being paranoid, of course he loves me. He tells me all the time. It's just..." he walked over to Alfred's horse and led him out of the stall, "I wish it was just us again. When no one would walk in when Alfred wanted to make love," he tightened the girth and mounted, riding off with all of his worries.

* * *

"It's beautiful! Thanks John," Alfred slid the box back into the bag,  
"It wasn't easy to make. Next time, please draw a picture or something to save me from reading your scribbles," John grumped, "you're lucky that Arthur isn't snoopy, or would have figured it out,"  
"he respects my privacy," from under the bed, Alfred pulled the cloth. For almost an hour, they sat in silence while the American worked. We he finished, John tied the thread in a way that would never come undone, "thank you for helping. I never could have done this without you,"  
John patted his soldier on the back, "I just pointed you in the right direction. Come on, your lover should be back,"

* * *

Arthur sighed and locked Shakespeare's stall. It had gotten chilly, and he shivered as he left the barn. A breezed tugged at his hair and trudged slowly to the house. His head shot p when he heard Alfred's voice. He stopped, watching his lover, and John walk towards the barn. Alfred was wearing his favorite jacket and still had a slight limp to his walk. Arthur was about to go over to them when John grabbed Alfred's arm and spun him around to face the man. They seemed to talk for a moment, but then Alfred flung his arms around the soldier and kissed his cheek. The Brit's mind shut down, the only thought was,  
'Alfred doesn't love me. Alfred loves John,' tears fell freely from his his eyes as he turned and sprinted towards the forest.

* * *

"Shit," Alfred let go of John and bolted after Arthur,  
"Alfred! If you go after him you knee will ever heal!"  
"I DON'T CARE!" the American screamed.  
Slowly, Alfred gained on his lover, Screaming his name again and again,  
"Arthur! ARTHUR!" the two entered the woods, and Alfred's injuries caught up to him. He stumbled over a root and crashed to the ground. A painful crunch came from his chest as one of his ribs shattered. He staggered to his feet, but his knee gave out and he collapsed, "Arthur," his call only came out as a rasping whisper, and no one answered. Alfred just lied on the ground and cried. He was about to just give up when a heard a sniffling sound from behind the tree in front of him. He crawled aver and saw Arthur curled up against a tree,  
"Alfred?" the Brit sniffled,  
"Artie! I'm so glad I found you! Never run from me again!" Alfred threw his jacket around his lover's shoulders and squeezed him in a huge hug,  
"Alfie, do you love me?"  
"Huh?! Of course I love you!"  
"Then why were you being so affectionate with John?"  
Alfred chuckled lightly, "he's my brother. My brother, Matthew, who I thought died years ago. He joined the army under a different name so he could watch over me," Arthur's eyes widened and he looked up at his lover,  
"Is that why you were spending so much time with him?"  
The American chuckled, "actually, he was helping make something for you. I intended to give it to you tomorrow, but I think right now would be a good time," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of cloth. He set it in Arthur's hand. The Brit ran his over the red and white cloth and gingerly unfolded it. He saw sloppy stitching, and a change in the striped pattern, Arthur unfolded it completely and tears crept to his eyes. It was an American flag, but Alfred had altered it. In the center of the flag, a Union Jack had been sewn it the shape of a heart, "you live in a country that flys a different flag, but your heart will always fly a Union Jack," The American glanced down and picked up a small, black box that had fallen from inside of the flag, "hey Artie," his voice wavered a little, "you love me right?"  
"More than anything," Arthur answered,  
"Well, then would you... possibly, want to spend the rest of your life with me?" Alfred opened the box and his lover gasped. The golden ring was simple, but stunning. The band twisted around and formed the bezel that held down a beautiful sapphire, identical in shade to Alfred's eyes,  
"Alfie, I-I-I..." he launched in the American's chest, "yes!" he sobbed into his now fiancee's chest, "you'll always love me, right?"  
"Arthur, I will love you forever," tears were falling from both men's eyes.  
"But humans don't live forever,"  
"Arthur, listen," Alfred pushed Arthur back he could stare directly into his eyes, "you're right, humans don't live forever, but out spirits do. The spirit of anyone who wishes to keep living will never die, it'll just take new forms," he slid the ring on his fiancee's finger, "and no matter what I become, or where I find myself, I will always find you. Arthur, I will love you forever, and I can say without a doubt," Alfred leaned forward until their lips were almost touching, "our story has just begun."


	6. Epilouge

_Dearest Journal,  
It has been some time since I last wrote in you. Five years in fact. It has been fives years since that night when Alfred proposed to me, and so much has happened that I have forgotten to keep you updated. A few days after he proposed, the town was informed(and I am sure it was that bloody git, Matthew who told them) why Alfred disturbed the burning of British items. The town, especially the wives of those who beat him up, felt bad. Knowing that the government doesn't approve of two men marrying, the townspeople held a secret wedding for us. It was a very small event, but was nice all the same. That was nearly four and a half years ago. Our lives have been pretty normal. The government has caught wind of us, but we tell them that we're brothers.  
About two years ago, Shakespeare died when he slid on the ice and couldn't stand back up. Alfred cried for months. I offered to get him another horse, but he didn't want one. Matthew left us his black mare, saying he no longer needed a horse. Alfred named her Victoria and soon grew to love her, but some nights I can still here him crying in the stables. A grey dog came to our doorstep about four or five months ago. His markings matched Shakespeare's to a tee. That was the first time I believed what Alfred said about spirits living on. Alfred named the dog William, and trained him to hunt. I love to just sit and watch those to run and play in the field behind our house. Every night, Alfred tells me that he'll always love me, and everymorning, he flys our flag. It seems that this may be my last entry in you, since I am on my last page. Thank you for always being there to listen, journal, but now I have someone who will do it for you. Goodbye journal, and don't worry about me, I have my husband to do that for me._


End file.
